


Are You Afraid, My Dove?

by QueenCurphy



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Play, Asphyxiation, Come Eating, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Groping, Hair-pulling, Marking, Morning Sex, Restraints, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCurphy/pseuds/QueenCurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not poke fun at a sleepy Tom's bed hair; you have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [normski_reedenstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/normski_reedenstein/gifts).



The sun has barely rose and yet the orange glow peaking through the blinds awakens you from your slumber; the soft rays of a new day spill across the bed, highlighting a lump under the sheets. A smile crawls upon your lips, your hand reaching out to nudge gently at said lump; the mass of covers rumbles sluggishly, a croaked moan muffled within. 

"Morning Thomas." You coo in amusement.

The covers slowly slip down and you're welcomed by a sweep of unruly curls and heavily lidded eyes, a laugh escapes your throat as you inspect the dark, auburn tufts upon Tom's head. 

"It's morning already?" He grumbles, his throat tight and rough from a heavy evening of abusing alcohol. 

"Yes Tom, it's already," you peak over at your phone on the bedside table, "Six-thirty."

He whines in disapproval, his eyes prising open in over-exaggerated shock.

"Six-thirty!? It's Sunday, let a man rest dammit." 

He rolls onto his side, his sleepy smile and caressing fingers on your arm bidding you a good morning; you sigh at his touch, his slim yet strong digits roam freely down your chilled skin.

"You're cold?" He asks, brows raised.

"It's April, And you hogged the sheets."

He moves up to prop his elbow on the downy pillows, the sheet slides down his torso to reveal his chest, along with the sparse curls and peppered freckles; a muscular arm wraps around your body, pulling you close with ease until you're beneath his gaze. He hovers above you, dipping his head to plant warm kisses across your jaw; you hum appreciatively before tilting your head and capturing his damp lips. The first kiss of the day is slow and lazy, mouths in sync and tongues dancing languidly. Tom's hand continues to travel across your body, his thumb ghosting circles on your stomach; you feel him grin against your mouth, and then his hand glides gracefully south. 

"Still a little chilly, dove?" 

As the tips of his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, a huff of air leaves your lungs, exiting your lips as a soft plea of his name.

"Tom,"

You open your eyes to find him with pearly fangs bared and lips almost snarling; he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging the rosy flesh until you moan into his mouth. His hand descends, his wide palm covering your pubic mound, and he cups it possessively; you feel a single digit sink into your folds, drawing a gasp from you as your head throws back into the cushions

"Mine." He growls darkly.

He suddenly releases his claim on your core when you burst into a fit of laughter.

"I didn't quite catch the punch line, darling." He smirks, even through his confusion; because he finds your laugh infectious.

As your head hit the pillows, your eyes had sprung open and discovered the intensity of Tom's bedhead; the curls at the nape of his neck were spiralling off into different directions, the crown of his head abound with calf-licks.

"Seriously, pretty bird, what has you giggling so hard?"

Tom looks at you with those pools of blue, the untold story of the universe reflecting in them; you stifle your laugh, raising your hand to run your fingers through his thick mane.

"What do you do in the night to wake up like that?!" Your fingers twist into his hair and tug,

"Don't... pull so hard." 

He pants, his eyes closing briefly, and when they reopen his pupils have dilated dramatically; it's the result you anticipated and expected. 

"How could I not? It's hard to resist these untameable curls." You purr.

His innocent smile has twisted and turned into a wicked grin, his hand flies straight for your breasts, his palm rolling across each peaked bud with hunger. You submit to him as he hastily hooks a leg over your body, towering over you as he pins you with his knee; your tongue runs across your lips of it's own accord, stirring the hardening bulge in his boxer-briefs. 

"Are you awake now, sleepy head?" You mock as your hips gyrate upwards and grind against his heat.

A flustered moan catches in his throat, the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes deepen as he gives you a look that makes your stomach turn with arousal. 

"You are a devil woman," he quips dryly, "I need to exorcise the demon in you." 

The change in his tone and the piercing glare of his eyes builds excitement inside you, a drawn-out breath spills from your lips, making Tom chuckle darkly.

"Where do I start?" He asks himself "Is she a threat? Does she need to be restrained?"

You want to shout out your agreement, but you know better than to interrupt his train of thought once he has entered the zone. 

"I don't think the rope will hold this one down. Maybe the chains?"

"Yes, please." You gasp at your outburst, and tremble when it doesn't go unnoticed.

His hand is quick to clamp over your mouth, his thumb pressing hard in the junction of your throat and chin.

"You do not speak, unless given permission." He snarls.

You try to nod in understanding, your head merely moving under the force of his hand; he sniggers, his thumb adding bruising pressure to your jugular. In a moment of lost control, you slip your tongue between your lips and lick a hot, wet strip against his palm; he involuntarily ruts forward, a look of annoyance written across his angular face.

"You just don't learn, do you?" He speaks deep and low, his face closing in on yours. 

Your eyes blow open in faux terror, knowing just what gets him ticking; you breathe heavily, chest heaving under his gaze. Tom pauses, raising a brow, waiting for reassurance; when you buck your hips and moan into the flesh of his hand, he snaps back into character.

"Are you afraid, my dove?" You sob into his hand, eyes doing the talking, "And so you should be." 

 

TO BE CONTINUED ..


	2. Chapter 2

Within a blink of an eye, Tom whips his hand away from your panting mouth and twists it painfully into your hair; he yanks back your head, exposing your throat. His eyes are so sharp they could slice open your soul, his body tense and his muscles flexing as he climbs up your body; his other hand flies to the strained bulge trapped behind cotton.

"I don't think you deserve this, just yet." He husks, pressing his palm against his crotch, and he moans so hoarsely that you feel his pleasure for him, "I'm going to make you work for it."

Every nerve ending in your body is pulsing, sparked with arousal that makes you dizzy; you anticipate the moment you'll finally be able to feel him deep inside you. You watch him through your lashes, your head pulled so far back that you're almost breaking your neck just to see Tom in all his glory, groping himself through his briefs. It makes him grin smugly, knowing that you're so desperate; he puts on quite the show, throwing his head back and rolling it to his shoulder, his strong jaw hanging slack as he grunts.

"Are you feeling neglected, sweetheart? Do you want to sample?" 

He shuffles his knees up the mattress to sit on your chest, adding his weight to prove his dominance over you; you're only just able to breathe. In one swift movement, he pulls himself free from his underwear, his dick springs out to slap against his stomach; precome spills against his pale skin, sticking to the dark curls running from his navel. Your mouth fills with saliva, the hunger in your eyes absolutely genuine; you're well aware of what comes next, and so you take a deep breath before you feel him push past your lips roughly. The long, satisfying groan that expels from his throat awakens your senses even more, snapping you back into reality; you get to work, hollowing your cheeks as he pushes you to your limits and fills you to the back of your throat. 

"Always so ready for me, always so inviting." 

You hum around his generous girth, the flat of your tongue rolling against the underside of his oversensitive cock; he bucks into you, your nose buries in his curls and you catch the raw scent of his masculinity, which causes you to moan. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, my dove?" His voice has lowered an octave as he drowns in the sensations your mouth creates

You know you shouldn't ignore him, it's one of his rules; but you're very much occupied, your mouth full to the brink. A sharp, stinging blow to your right cheek makes you swallow involuntarily. A chain reaction sets off; a result of slapping you and your throat opening has caused him to sink further into you. You choke around him, saliva dripping messily down your chin as he shouts out, the look on his face feral.

"You will - AHH! - answer when spoken to!" 

"Yes, yes!" You finally give him the answer he's wanted; your cheekbone throbs as you regain your breath.

"Good girl." He slurs.

He fists your hair, snapping your head back and forth in short, sharp thrusts; fucking into your mouth with vigour, his breath becoming laboured. As he grows closer to his climax, your thighs tense and shake, knowing that soon enough he will be burying himself between them; he's always good to go for a second round.

"Such a pretty, little mouth like yours should NOT be capable of such filthy talents." 

His voice becomes strained and ragged, another sign that he is so close to the edge; he's crossed the point of no return, and he would rather die than not reach his orgasm. You continue to coat his length in your hot wetness; adding suction and teasing your tongue between stuffed lips to lap at his tight sack against your chin. You channel every ounce of your energy into completing him, nothing else on the earth matters to you, as he trips over the edge and begins to shudder; he's set an erratic pace, which you are so focused on keeping up with.

"Say my name." He husks

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, "Tom."

His voice and demeanour chance rapidly, the lines of his face switching to that of a caged animal; he speaks with a low growl, and you suddenly recognise the role he has fallen into.

"Say my name!"

"Loki!" You sigh, your mouth stretched around his ridged manhood.

"SAY MY NAME!"

"LOKI!"

He stills, coming hard and heavy with a guttural howl; the sheer force of his orgasm rips through you, ropes of his thick seed coats your throat, overflowing and spilling from your aching lips. He holds you there, your face flush against his groin as he empties himself, the most erotic sounds rumble from his chest; once the last drop lands on your tongue, he only then withdraws.

"Well. Look at the mess you have made." 

He's very pleased with himself as he looks down at the pearly fluid dripping down your jaw, he removes his hand from your hair, your scalp tingling with relief; he uses his fingers to smear his come around your lips. You comply with his unspoken demand, opening your mouth to suck his digits clean; you slurp around them grotesquely, stirring arousal in the spent man sat above you.

"You truly are a very dirty girl. Whatever will I do with you?"

Your brow raises when he stays in character; so he wants to play God? 

"Surely, the God of mischief should know just what to do with me." 

Tom's grin widens, his teeth baring once again, he swoops down and takes your breath away in a passionate kiss; when he resurfaces, his sharp tongue flicks out to catch the come at the corner of his mouth. You can't stop the soft mewl that escapes your throat.

"Will you be a loyal subject? Will you trust your ruler to bring you to your completion by any means necessary?" 

The pressure on your torso is lifted as he stands beside the bed; he rids himself of his underwear, and you can't help but stare longingly at his thick thighs and rounded ass. 

"Prince Loki, of Asgard; I have always been, and will forever be, loyal to you. Now please, make me see stars."

Turning to face you, Tom laughs dryly, his grin stretching from ear to ear; he moves to the foot of the bed, whipping the sheets down and throwing them to the floor.

"My pet, I will make you see far more than just the stars. Now, get on your hands and knees."

**Author's Note:**

> (( Happy Holidays ))


End file.
